Chapter 18
LET ME OUT OF THE POOL
Sera
“Operation Rolling Thunder.”
Thane chimes in with, “Project Dumpster Fire.”
“How about Operation Burrito Backfire?” I say, and we fill the whole car with our laughter.
“It’s perfect. That definitely lands on my top ten list of horrible life experiences,” Thane says.
“What else lands on that list?” I ask.
“Oh, no. I’ve given you enough information for the time being. It’s your turn to spill the tea.”
I pause, wondering about what he may ask.
The more time I spend with Thane, the more I want to open back up to him, for “us” to be “us” again; but I can’t seem to fully drop the guard I’ve put up for myself.
The words, let’s talk about the hard stuff, circle around my mind like a whirlpool, but they can’t seem to find their way to my mouth.
I wish Thane would push a little harder for me to be vulnerable, but he’s being so respectful of my boundaries I almost regret setting them.
I’m not sure why I’m even surprised; he has always respected my boundaries.
When I wanted to keep our relationship a secret, he obliged.
When I asked him to keep things light on the drive, he obliged in that too.
He may have made some bad choices in his younger years, but he has always had my back.
He smiles at me from over in the passenger seat and my stomach tumbles—in a good way this time.
I want to know every secret he has kept from me, and I want to spill my guts to him too.
My chest burns, and the words I can’t seem to make sense of go from a simmer to a boil.
Everything inside me screams, “Just jump!” but I dance on the edge like a kid afraid of the diving board.
I feel the panic sweats coming on again, and holding them in only makes things worse.
I can’t have a major burrito attack and excessive pit stains all in one day.
I steal a quick glance at him, and he’s staring pensively out the window.
The courage to let everything out—even if it’s all at once—surges.
I clear the mud in my throat and practically shout.
“I can’t pretend anymore!”
Surprise washes over his face. “Finally,” he whispers as a smile curls on the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been waiting five years for this.”
The moment I open the floodgates, everything spills out into my lap. Nothing makes sense, and I can’t sort things so they do, but once I begin, I can’t stop. My eyes well and spill over, but I don’t care. I need relief from this burden.
“I’ve never hurt so badly in my entire life as I did the day you left me, broken, confused, and alone.
I don’t think I ever recovered from the way my heart shattered that day,” I confess, wiping my tears with a gas station napkin.
I don’t even care anymore that I’m the ugliest crier in the world, or that he’s seeing that side of me.
I don’t need to impress him with my beauty or charm; I need him to see the raw wound that festered and reopened every time I looked at the Donnellys’ empty driveway where his truck used to sit.
I was never the same after that day. Mr. Donnelly parked Thane’s truck in a storage unit after he came back home from the airport, and it was like Thane had never existed.
“You didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t even mean enough to you to leave a stupid note?!” I shout. “You meant the world to me. And you discarded me like I was yesterday’s garbage.”
It was that day that I built a fortress around myself and never let anyone in again. I moved through the world like a shell floats through the surf: empty and aimless. Tossing around at the mercy of my environment. Hoping someday someone would stop in their tracks when they saw me, and choose me.
At twenty, I went to culinary school and found a new love as a pastry chef, but cakes were the only sweetness I let into my life.
I poured myself into my work—became the best of the best—and my reputation preceded me.
I had a nice apartment and enough money to live in the city, but I could never snip that tiny thread that tied me to Thane.
My car Priscilla is the last ghost from my past that I hold onto, because she has Thane’s fingerprints all over her.
When she needed repairs, Thane fixed her.
And when he couldn’t fix her, he’d duct tape or wire things until she worked again.
There are still sticky pieces of leftover duct tape on the dash I couldn’t fully remove.
They’re stuck there for good, just like Thane is in my heart—all over, and impossible to remove.
It’s the only physical evidence of his existence that I have left.
Thane rests a warm hand on my arm on the console. “I don’t want to interrupt you, because I think we both need to hear this right now, but I’d like the chance to explain why I did that.”
I take a deep breath and brace myself for what he’s about to say. After this moment, there will be no more speculation, no more wondering why. That question that has haunted me for years will finally be put to rest.
Am I ready for this?
Thane’s hands fidget with his seatbelt, and the way they shake tells me this is about to change everything.
“I walked away because you deserved better than me, and I knew that. So, instead of becoming a better man—a man you deserved—I left like a coward. If I faced you—if I looked into those deep brown eyes, or kissed your soft lips—I knew I’d never be able to leave.”
“So you ran off in the cover of darkness,” I say, my voice thick with emotion.
He hangs his head in shame and goes quiet.
My pulse quickens and my lungs get tight in my chest. “I can’t do this,” I say, and whip across two lanes of traffic to exit. “I don’t want to be in the deep end anymore. Let me out of the pool.”
I pull over at the end of the off-ramp and frantically swipe at my tears as I fight for a productive breath.
I’m shattering into a million pieces next to the boy I’ve always loved, coming to me as a man with his heart in his hands.
Then, just when I’m about to fall completely to pieces, his gentle hand strokes my hair like he used to.
It’s cathartic. Familiar. Painful. But I don’t pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “If I could take it all back, I would. I hate that closure is messy, but we both need this.”
“Of course we do. But I needed you to come back and be hideous and horrible, not apologetic and charming and sweet. What am I supposed to do with that? I’ve done everything I can possibly think of to move on.
And you come sauntering back into my life on a whim and set me all the way back to square one.
” I unbuckle my seatbelt and fling open the driver’s side door. “I can’t process all this and drive.”
I march to his side and yank open the door. He clicks the buckle and steps out cautiously. He slides past my body like I’m a landmine waiting to go off and jogs to the driver’s side.
I put my seatbelt back on, tuck my legs up to my chest, and bury my face in my knees.
Thane puts the car in drive, gets back on the freeway, and I silently cry for a good half hour.
As each mile passes, the pit in my stomach grows heavier and heavier.
I don’t know what to say, and part of me wishes I could rewind the last hour and start again.
We were making great progress, then he went ahead and blew up the whole thing by going full bore into fix-it mode.
I don’t want him to fix it, though. Do I?
After a while, my eyes get heavy and my head swerves in and out of sleep. The last thing I remember is Thane putting my travel blanket over my shoulders before I drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Thane shakes me gently.
“Fina, we’re here,” he says softly.
I open my sandpaper eyelids and blow my nose into a napkin. I glance in the mirror, and my puffy, red face says it all. Before I can hide my emotions from my parents, they’re rushing out to the driveway to greet us. I watch their excited smiles turn to concern as they see my red-rimmed eyes.
Mrs. Donnelly smacks Thane’s arm. “What did you do?” she hisses.
He opens his mouth to explain, but judging by his twisted features, he’s not even sure what to say.
That makes two of us, Thane.
Our dads see the impending drama and sidestep toward the trunk to grab our bags.
“Come on, Vivian, it’s been a long trip. Let’s let these kids get settled in,” Mr. Donnelly says to Thane’s mother as he passes by.
I’m grateful that he has taken the attention off us and pointed it to the task at hand. But my mom still eyes me suspiciously. Everyone else makes their way up the driveway first, and my mom loops her arm in mine—controlling our pace.
“How was the drive, Mija?” she asks quietly.
“That’s a loaded question, Mama,” I say, my comment coming out more short than I meant it to.
Luckily, my mama knows how to keep her public face on better than I do. Instead of joining me in my mood, she squeezes me. “I know it is. I can see it written all over your face.”
My eyes begin to well up again and I stamp them down.
“Was it that horrible? We were hoping you two could work things out.”
“It wasn’t all bad. We had some really good moments. But there were some really bad ones too. It was just… a lot, that’s all. I’m fine, really. It’s been a long drive and I’m super tired.”
She eyes me suspiciously and I know she wants to prod more. Luckily for me, she gets the message and smiles instead.
“Go get some rest. I’ll wake you in an hour for dinner.”
I nod and trudge up the stairs to the bunk room. My suitcase has already been brought up and set aside, so I pick my usual top bunk with my name carved into it from when I was ten, and climb the ladder.